


Remember That Night

by commanderclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff, Murphy is just a soft nerd, Past Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Valentine’s Day, idiots to lovers, pining?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderclarke/pseuds/commanderclarke
Summary: When Murphy shows up with a bottle of alcohol and one single flower, Clarke is left confused but thankful. But who knew a small gesture would lead them to exploring how they really felt about the other.Or, Murphy and Clarke have a one night stand on Valentine’s Day and now don’t know how to tell the other they like them.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/John Murphy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	Remember That Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey !! I’m posting this quite late on Valentine’s Day but I still wanted to get it up so here it is. This oneshot was all over the place, I won’t lie. It took me a while to settle on this but I think it didn’t turn out too bad. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy :)

Here’s the thing.

Clarke had been around long enough on this damned earth and single for more years than none, so she knew she should be used to it. She should be used to being alone, not having a partner.

But she wasn’t.

Being single still sucked some days. She wished she could wake up next to someone, get to roll over and get tangled up in their arms. To have them make her breakfast as she sat across the island, a giddy smile stretched from ear to ear.

Walking hand-in-hand through a park, cuddled up on the couch, going for dinners.

She did miss all of it. She loved that feeling of truly admiring a person. Admiring someone so much you felt physically sick some days. She missed having someone she loved sitting and staring off in another direction, completely oblivious to the fact that she’s looking at them.

It was such a great feeling that she wished she could get back.

So yeah, Clarke was pretty bummed that she was single and Valentine’s Day was in two days. And while she sat on the outside of her close-knit of friends, she sank into herself, chin resting against her knee as she hugged herself.

They were in each other’s lap, leaning into each other’s side. Raven and Emori, Bellamy and Gabriel, Monty and Harper, Octavia and Jasper.

She watched as Emori laughed at something Bellamy said, head falling back against Raven's shoulder as Raven tightened her grip on her waist. And Bellamy, while telling that very joke, had been trailing a finger across Gabriel’s palm.

Harper was snuggled into Monty’s side, eyes crinkled up with a genuine smile. And Octavia was whispering to Jasper as she hugged him from behind.

All of them there together. Laughing and playing games, soft snow falling against the ground. The brightness of the sky falling against their living room. It was almost blinding.

Clarke ran her socked-toes across the carpet, watching the colour change ever so slightly when she dragged them back. They would all be doing their thing on Valentine’s. Having dinner, eating chocolate, getting flowers.

Probably much more than that, going to bed late at night, heavy breathing and tangled up in their sheets.

She sighed, that part not as important to her but was also a bonus. It’d be nice. But that wasn’t what she had in store this year. She’d be at home, curled up on her couch with some boring rom-com on as she ate alone.

It sucked.

Clarke glanced up when her name was called, her friends all looking at her. “What?”

“Do you want to hang out again tomorrow? Just before Valentine’s Day since we’ll probably...probably be a little hungover on the fifteenth,” Octavia asked. Clarke nodded, faking a smile and shoving her face back into her bent legs.

They went back to discussing their plans for what they’d do tomorrow, Raven suggesting they go sledding with the others agreeing to that.

It was getting fairly close to that Big Day for couples, so most people would assume they all would be off on their own, planning for it. Yet it wasn’t unusual for them to hang out so close to holidays. They were all practically inseparable.

But Clarke felt off. Just as she had this past New Years' and Christmas. 

Because this year they all were in relationships and Clarke wasn’t. She hadn’t been in one since Finn, since she found out she was being used. She did get Raven out of that, but it didn’t hurt any less. 

Clarke sighed, chewing her lip as she glanced outside. The front yard had a thick layer of untouched white fluff, more flurries falling all around. She smiled, content with how much snow that had finally gotten. She did enjoy the weather, winter was one of her favourite seasons. 

Clarke turned away, now staring at the other side of the table. Across from her, sitting on the floor as she was, sat Murphy. Legs stretched out in front of him, arms back as his eyes wandered, going from the walls to the floor, trying to avoid the conversation as she was. 

There was him. The only other single person in their group. Technically she wasn’t alone, he was also going through it. But would he even care for Valentine’s? 

Probably not. He was too Murphy to like it. All badass and...stuff. Clarke thought, at least. But she watched him, shifting uncomfortably at the mention of him finding a girlfriend. A hand reaching up to rub the heat away from his neck. 

He was sat alone just as she was, just on the outside, with little room between him and the surrounding couples. 

Clarke wondered if he’d make a good boyfriend. She knew he was a good cook so maybe he’d wake her up with breakfast and a kiss. Maybe rolling over and seeing his face wouldn’t be that bad. 

Clarke shook her head of those thoughts. No. She was just lonely, that’s all it was. She wanted a partner but Murphy couldn’t be that, he was her friend and she liked having him as her friend. 

So that’s all he would be. 

“I’m just gonna go grab a drink,” Clarke stood—her friends humming a response—and went off. 

She walked the long hall of Raven and Emori’s house, heading for the kitchen where she pulled down a glass and filled it with water. 

Water droplets slipped down the side, slowly falling to the island counter. 

Clarke took a long sip and then set the glass down, closing her eyes as she did. She hated feeling so desperate. Valentine’s Day was stupid anyway, she didn’t need it. 

She didn’t need nor want anything or anyone. 

All she needed was herself and she would make that enough.

*****

She hadn’t moved for hours. 

Clarke had dug herself so far into the couch, a blanket tossed over her legs and the remote sitting lazily in her hand. The movie was playing in front of her, and she was looking at it, but she wasn’t watching. 

She couldn’t. All she could think about was her friends who were out for dinner and spending the day together. She thought about the pretty flowers she saw at the stores when she went and grabbed her own chocolate. 

It was pretty late, and Clarke was alone when she didn’t want to be. 

She knew she promised herself she’d try to make the best of it all, that herself would be enough. But she couldn’t help it. She was the romantic type, the one to want to spend their time with their partner. Doing anything they could imagine. 

Whether that was going out for dinner or making a blanket fort and eating chocolate. Quality time was her thing, which included with her friends and family too, so being completely alone in her apartment was a nightmare. 

Clarke rolled over, pulled the blanket up to her face and sighed. She could call up one of her exes. Maybe it’d help for the night. It also might not help at all. And if it didn’t, she would be left with waking up to something she would definitely regret. 

She rolled over again, scratching at her scalp. 

She was tired and bored and needed more chocolate but that meant getting up and walking to her kitchen and she was pretty content in staying right where she was. Buried in her couch with her fuzzy blanket. 

But then her phone rang and she was forced into sitting up.

A familiar name came across her screen that made her narrow her eyes. What the hell? She picked it up anyway, curious as to why he was calling, “Murphy?”

_“Hey,”_ he answered, _“I have alcohol.”_

Clarke sat up. This was Murphy, who usually had alcohol or was at a bar so why was he telling her this? Was he trying to brag like he was having a better time than her? She had drinks, she could have just as much fun as him on her own—

“Okay?”

There was some ruffling around on the other side, then a knock at her door. Clarke glanced back, the phone still to her ear. _“Let me in, idiot.”_

Clarke stumbled over her words, landing on a quick goodbye then hung up. 

Okay. Murphy was here and he had alcohol. That actually wasn’t all that bad considering they were the only two of the group who were alone, so maybe spending some time with him would be alright. 

Slowly opening the door, Murphy peeked his head in, a bag under his arm, a bottle in one hand and a—a flower in the other?

“Murphy, what the hell is this?” Clarke questioned, closing the door when he was inside. 

He walked up to the counter, setting everything down. “Well, this is booze, this is a—“

“I’m serious. Why are you here?” She asked again, but pulled the bottle from his hands and grabbed two cups for them. She was confused, but she wasn’t about to turn it down. 

Murphy sat on one of the stools, hands propping up his face, watching Clarke as she carefully poured the liquid into the cups. “It’s Valentine’s Day and I knew we both had nothing to do so...”

Now he was reaching for the bag, pulling out two trays of chocolate and a packet. Clarke eyed him, biting her lip. She did appreciate it, but she didn’t take Murphy for a guy who would go out of his way for these things. Let alone for someone who wasn’t with him. 

And when he was handing her the single flower, saying it was for her, Clarke didn’t take her eyes off the smallest grin that Murphy had. Barely noticeable, but it was there and it was genuine. 

Clarke gulped down a feeling she wasn’t going to let herself feel and took the flower, placing it in a tall cup with some water. “Thanks. You didn’t have to...I mean...”

Murphy was already shaking his head, saying he wanted to. Because they were the last two and if they were all getting flowers she should too. “Even if we’re friends.”

Right. Clarke had nearly forgotten for a second they were friends. Just friends. That’s all they would be. Forever Clarke and Murphy, the two friends of the group that were okay with each other most days, but dating? No one could ever imagine something like that.

Hell, even Clarke was having a hard time imagining what it would really be like if she was with Murphy. And—why was she even considering any of this? This wasn’t her. Right? 

Fuck. Clarke pushed one cup towards Murphy and then downed her own. “Jeez, Griffin.”

“What?” Clarke snapped, seemingly offended that he might have thought she wasn’t capable of doing such a thing. But she wasn’t angry at him. Only at the universe itself, also at that little bubble in her chest that she felt when Murphy smirked, nodded and downed his own. 

“Nothing, just glad to know that’s how tonight's gonna go.” 

Rolling her eyes, she poured each of them another glass. This was risky. She knew that. Every single emotion she felt when drunk was always heightened. So she was a little nervous she would try something, or say something she didn’t mean and still end up alone. 

But she also didn’t care. “You know what the others are probably doing?”

“Having sex,” Murphy didn’t try to be blunt, just said it how it was and took a sip. Clarke stared at him. 

“What? It’s like...past nine, they’re probably already at it. Or maybe foreplay, I don’t know.” Murphy swirled his drink, watching the brown liquid swish from side to side. 

“Yeah, I just—wasn’t exactly what I was going to say,” Clarke laughed, trying not to think about it. Though the more she tried not to, the images came faster. 

Murphy brought the glass to his lips, hesitating around the edge, then spoke instead of drinking, “I’m not wrong.”

“I, uh—yeah, yeah you’re not.” At that, Murphy was looking right at her, tongue darting out over his lips. Clarke hated it. 

She couldn’t look him in the eye, rubbing at her face to try and hide the awkward blush that was creeping up into her cheeks. Why was he intimidating all of a sudden? Or not intimidating, but—Clarke couldn’t put a word to it. She just knew it made her feel weird and she didn’t like it. 

“Well,” Clarke picked her still-full glass up and tipped it towards Murphys much emptier one, “here’s to being the only two  not  having sex.”

With a laugh, Murphy clinked her cup. “Never did I think I’d be celebrating not getting laid.”

They laughed again. Because it was sad but funny because at least both of them weren’t. And then again, Clarke sighed. 

If only she was. 

After a while, they moved to the couch—bottle coming with them—and sat there. Joking for hours, playing games and going on about how much  _ fun  _ the others must have been having. 

It wasn’t a sad talk. It wasn’t a desperate call for help from the other. It was genuinely funny and they couldn’t get enough of it. 

They hadn’t moved until the bottle was finished, which prompted Clarke to get up and get more. Whiskey this time. They shouldn’t be mixing, but whatever. She didn’t exactly care at that given moment, she only cared about getting back to making jokes about the people they knew. 

Which included exes. 

“Why...why’d his hair look like that?” Murphy was holding onto Clarke for support, even though he wasn’t moving. 

Clarke was laughing just as hard, imagining Finn in her head. “I...I don’t know.”

Murphy pushed himself up, arms shaking where they were planted on Clarke’s thighs. “What—what did you...you even see in him?”

Murphy’s words slurred together but were so clear to Clarke. She didn’t have an answer though, not one that made sense to her. Because looking back, she didn’t know what she saw in Finn. He was nice, so maybe that was it. 

But Murphy was nice. Raven was nice. Everyone was nice, yet something had felt right at the time. 

She didn’t have that feeling anymore. Not for him. 

She did, however, feel something for Murphy. And she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that she was really horny when she drank whiskey, but Clarke suddenly realized just how close Murphy was. And she could smell whiskey and dark chocolate on his breath. She could feel just how warm he was, the heat radiating off him. It was comforting. 

But she was also freezing so that could also be a factor. 

She glanced down at his hands. They were still there, on her thighs. Fingers pressed into the soft flesh, his tangled hair covering his eyes. Clarke gulped. She was way too drunk and lonely to be thinking what she was. 

She shouldn’t do anything. Murphy wouldn’t like it either. So she wouldn’t do something that her drunk mind wanted to incase it ruined her friendship. And that was the last thing she wanted. 

But Murphy's laugh echoed in her head, rough and harsh. His chest rising up and down and his hands squeezing her a little tighter. Clarke should have moved away, fight the urge because she was inching closer and the heat in her stomach was screaming at her to do this. 

She didn’t have to do it, though. She didn’t have to fight her own urges this time. Because Murphy had looked up, eyes no longer the brightest blue skies but a raging sea. A storm crashing down against the rocks. Clarke’s heart was racing. So loud she was worried Murphy might hear it.

Then his hands were on her hips, nails in her side. He was kissing her. Hard. No room for emotions, just fast and aggressive. Swollen lips and bruised skin.

Clarke slid her hands up his shirt, scratching at his chest as he left a trail of kisses down her neck, stopping at her collarbone and pulling away.

She wiggled underneath him, itching to get rid of the burn in her lower stomach. 

This wasn’t the Murphy she knew all those years. The one who fought with her about school projects or what cafeteria food was the best. This wasn’t the one who pushed her into snowbanks just because he could.

This wasn’t the boy that teased her and pushed her buttons. He was just a lonely kid, a lonely kid who needed to get off just as much as she did because even if they knew each other, and maybe things would be awkward the next morning, doing what they were about to felt right.

And then there was that little light in his eye, and twitch of his lip. A soft face masked behind the alcohol. Clarke couldn’t tell what it was if it was something more than intoxicated horniness. But she was cursing herself. Would sober her be able to understand it? Or would she be just as clueless?

Her thoughts were broken by his lips on hers again. She shivered under the feel of them, still wiggling underneath him as he pushed himself down. He wanted to be as close as possible, to feel every part of her body.

He pulled away once more, causing Clarke to lean up, wishing they could go on forever. “Your room?”

Nodding, she pushed him off her and followed him into her room where he shut the door and grabbed her.

He didn’t waste any time in pushing her down into the mattress, ripping off his own shirt while she had done the same.

Clarke, with her hand against his bare chest, his arms on either side of her, eyed him for a few seconds. She liked the look of him with his hair in front of his face, lips parted as he breathed in the warm air around them.

Murphy spoke, sober thoughts breaking through, “do you want to?”

Clarke did. She  _ really _ did. Possibly more than she probably should. 

Though she wondered if this was something she would do without the whiskey. If she would confident enough to kiss Murphy. Was he having those same thoughts?

Did Murphy want to kiss her while they were both sober? Or was this just something two friends did when they were down two bottles of alcohol, three boxes of chocolate and felt lonelier than ever?

Clarke nodded, ignoring all of those thoughts and feelings for the time being.

It wasn’t love. She knew that. But it was okay with her and she was pretty sure it was okay with Murphy. Sex wasn’t what they had planned for, but it was nice and Clarke was pretty sure if he didn’t do anything, she would have.

So even if this wasn’t how she thought her day was going to go, she was okay with Murphy running his hands down her side. She was okay with him chewing at her lip and sticking his tongue in places she never thought John Murphy would be. 

And she was okay with the mess that would follow their drunken mistake of sleeping together. Because Clarke never wanted to forget the way Murphy felt against her skin. 

She didn’t want to forget the way he found himself out of breath, eyes trained on her face as he went down on her. She didn’t want to forget how it felt for him to be so close. 

She wanted to remember forever. She did because she was pretty sure this was the best night of her life. 

Yeah. It definitely was. 

***** 

Clarke threw an arm over her face when she woke up, trying to block out the burning sun that fell against her skin. It was warmer inside those four walls than it was the night before. Way warmer. And her legs were tangled up with someone else’s with an arm wrapped tightly around her torso. 

She rolled over, brown hair and closed eyes right in her face. 

Her eyes widened. Murphy was in her bed. 

She vaguely remembered the night before. Murphy had shown up with a flower and alcohol, they ate chocolate and joked around. 

Then things started blurring together. He was on top of her, that much she remembered. And his face...a very clear picture of him leaning over, no shirt on, was at the front of her mind. 

But all the things in between, she couldn’t quite recall. It was obvious what happened if her being naked was any indication about it, but she couldn’t find the memories of what drunk her did with drunk Murphy. 

Now that she was there, Murphy snuggled into her shoulder, she decided it wasn’t the worst thing to have happened. Yes, they would have to talk about what it meant (if it did mean anything). 

And they would have to try and keep it from their friends. Which was the easiest part of all of it. Clarke knew Murphy wouldn’t open his mouth, he always kept to himself. 

So it was okay. At least until he woke up and they would have to talk about it and Clarke didn’t want to. She didn’t want to deal with the fact that they slept with each other and that she remembered feeling nervous before she was even drunk and that he was in her bed and god he looked so fucking—

He squinted against the sun, “Uh...good morning.”

Clarke laughed. She hadn’t meant to, but Murphy was able to capture exactly how she felt in a small sentence. 

“Morning.” Neither of them thought to move. Even if this wasn’t how they thought they were going to wake up, something stopped them from trying to. 

“So...we—you know...” Murphy gestured between them. Clarke nodded, eyes wandering down to where his hand still was, fingers rubbing up and down her arm. She shivered under his touch. 

“It doesn’t mean anything...” Clarke wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, and from the look on his face, she was sure Murphy didn’t know either. 

“I guess not,” was all he replied, yet he still had an arm wrapped around her and they were inches away from each other. Noses so close all he had to do was lean in and his would brush over hers. And his lips, still parted from when he spoke, were red and swollen and Clarke wanted to kiss him so badly. 

But she didn’t, “you guess not?”

She had wanted the conversation to end, to be done with. There was no need to get into what any of it  _ could  _ be. Because nothing was there. They just accidentally slept together. Yet her mouth was faster than her thoughts. 

Now Murphy was there, arms tense and a lump him his throat. He wouldn’t look at Clarke now. No. His eyes looked at her dresser and the pile of notebooks stacked on top. 

Or the nude painting of a couple on her wall. He looked at the canvas still half painted in the corner on her easel. Everywhere he could find to look just so it didn’t have to be at her. 

“I—uh, it’s not that it wasn’t fun. It’s just, you know...we’re friends?” Murphy stammered, face as red as a rose. Was this something more to him?

Was it something more to  her ? She never thought much of Murphy as more than a friend. She thought she did, at least. Or maybe she had. She did last night, she remembered that. But Murphy had been nice enough to come over and keep her company. 

That’s why she felt that way, right?

She did enjoy it when they were alone, though. When their friends had gone off to dance, leaving them to drink at the bar. He would joke with her, shoulders bumping, causing Clarke to spill her drink. Then he’d lean over and clean it up for her. 

Or when they would be the first to show up, still waiting for their friends. Murphy would nudge her, telling her she looked nice. 

Clarke shifted under her sheets, hand coming up to rest on his chest. She could feel his racing heart. And he was so, so warm.

Murphy cleared his throat, visibly calming like he hadn’t just flipped out. “You know what the others would say if they knew about this? They’d fucking die.”

Murphy was laughing, crawling over Clarke to get out of bed. He wanted to avoid it all. “They would not expect us out of all people to have  sex. ”

It was all in her head. She knew it. She probably made all those reactions up to make herself feel better. About what? That she wasn’t too sure about considering this was Murphy. Plain old John Murphy. And she was Clarke Griffin. 

And they had accidentally slept with each other. But it was a one-time thing that didn’t mean anything. 

Clarke hopped out after him. They disregarded the fact that they were still naked and joked as they tried finding their clothes. 

“‘Oh look, Clarke and Murphy had sex. What the fuck?’” Murphy mocked Bellamy, pulling on his boxers. “And don’t forget Raven! ‘Holy shit Griffin, why  _ him _ ?’”

Clarke snorted, hitting Murphy with her bra, “oh come on, you’re being way too generous to yourself.”

Murphy dropped his pants mid pulling them up, hands on his waist. “Are you saying you guys say worse things about me? Meanies.”

“Oh shut up and get dressed.”

They finished getting changed in laughter, still avoiding eye contact for longer than a few seconds then Clarke walked him to her front door. 

She gulped. His hair was as messy as it was the night before. And he now had hickeys going up his neck.  _Shit_.  Why did she do that?

She didn’t even like people knowing about that stuff when she was in a relationship, let alone when it happened through a one night stand.

“Fuck, you need to cover this up as soon as possible.” She brushed her fingers over the purpled flesh, leaving goosebumps in the process.

“Hickeys? Jeez, Griffin, trying to tell everyone you were with me,” he smirked, leaning in ever so slightly. Clarke pushed back him back, grinning with squinted eyes.

“In your dreams, Murphy.”

“Okay, whatever. Hope you enjoyed the chocolate, see you tomorrow, I guess.” With that Murphy turned and left, leaving a confused and slightly horny Clarke behind.

How the hell did he make her feel like that? Was it because she now had an experience with him? Clarke sighed, slamming the door shut.

Okay, here’s what Clarke knew. Murphy came over with booze and chocolate. They hung out, ate the chocolate and drank the alcohol and then Murphy was on top of her.

She woke up next to him, both fought to find a way to explain what it was and both failed. Got it.

Well, what does she do now? Did she like Murphy? Or was she still just coming down from her weird Valentine’s Day loneliness?

Clarke ran her hands through her ratted hair, sinking down into her couch. This was more complicated than it needed to be.

Murphy was a friend. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less. They were just too intoxicated and it led to something that meant  nothing.

But god did it feel like so much more than that.

Clarke laid back on her couch, throwing an arm over her face. Maybe if she slept a little more, her brain could clear itself and the confusion would disappear.

That sounded like it would work.

*****

It didn’t.

Not even a little. If anything, everything was much, much worse because Clarke had a dream of Murphy. Of Murphy and her while sober, his hands on her and lips trailing down her stomach all the way down to her—this was too much.

Clarke tried to get rid of the thoughts that came after the dream. But no matter what, no distraction was enough to get it out of her head.

It just kept coming back up. Murphys face, all out of breath and sweat across his forehead. Her hands through his hair as she pulled him back down.

Then the rest of it came. The parts that didn’t exist and no experience could explain it. They were just there. 

Waking up next to Murphy leaving kisses over her neck, whispering a quiet morning. Getting up to cook her breakfast. Nose kisses, forehead kisses, so many kisses.

She didn’t have that. It never existed, yet she couldn’t shake those ideas. They just kept popping up, never leaving her through the day.

She cleaned and she drew. She went for a drive to get groceries. She put on a movie.

It wasn’t enough.

The next few days went the same. In between everything, there he was. His face in her mind, never going away. During his dishes, late at night, when she was painting. 

She wanted them to go away. Badly. But she felt like this was more.  _ That  _ night was more. And that scared the hell out of her because she wasn’t supposed to be feeling something.

Especially not for Murphy. He was her friend. Someone who she hardly liked at one point. And now she was feeling something more?

It made her sick. Or so she thought that’s what was making her sick.

Even if that stomach ache, that burning in her chest, only appeared when Bellamy talked about finding him a girl. Or when Octavia said she had a friend he might be interested in.

She played it off as nothing, but it was becoming extremely clear what was really going on with her.

Clarke was falling for Murphy.

She shoved her face into her pillow, groaning at the mere thought of liking him, let alone possibly loving him. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. She was supposed to be with someone outside of the group and so was he. And then they would all have partners and everything would make sense and Clarke wouldn’t be alone.

But she didn’t want just anyone. Now she was starting to realize she wanted him. Him and all his snarky comments and dumb jokes. His past and his future. She wanted that.

Clarke rolled over, staring at the ceiling.  _ It didn’t mean anything, remember? _

Murphy didn’t like her back. It was just sex. They accidentally slept with each other because they were drunk.

Clarke turned on her side, hand reaching for her phone. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there was something more there that...something they couldn’t do sober. Clarke wondered if Murphy had wanted to do it if it was a thought before Valentine’s Day. Or if it was nothing like he said. Like she said.

She pulled his contact up and stared at it. The little picture staring back at her. It was taken in the summer at an amusement park. Murphy with his arm around her and a peace sign up and she was leaning into his side. 

Clarke’s lips turned up, eyes softening. She loved when they hung out, their friends there too of course, but her and Murphy had a different bond. And maybe that was because they basically hated each other at the start, or maybe it was something else.

All Clarke knew was that her chest was on fire, and her breathing came to a stop as she pressed call. Holding onto hope that Murphy felt the same. She had to tell him or ask him to come over so she could tell him.

She was shaking, hands sweating.

_“Hey?”_ Murphy answered, voice rough and she could hear the confusion in his voice. Clarke glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. 

Fuck. She never thought he might be sleeping. She didn’t even realize how late it was. “Uh, sorry, I just...wanted to talk. I’m bored.”

_ ”You couldn’t have been bored earlier in tHR day when I was awake?” _ Murphy replied, sleep still in his tone. Clarke fiddled with her sheets, the same ones that had her and Murphy under them only a few nights ago.

Clarke cleared her throat, “Murphy...I—“

What would she say? I think I like you? I think if you come over here and mess up my sheets again then this feeling will go away and I can pretend it never came up?

No. Even if she offered him to come over, that would further what she could feel bubbling up in her chest as Murphy hummed on the other side of the phone. He was probably shirtless, only a pair of black boxers on.

She wanted to see him. She wanted him to hold her. God, she was hopeless.

“Do you wanna grab coffee tomorrow?” Clarke settled on. It wasn’t her plan, but she went with it. Coffee could be good for them. Good for whatever was going on and whatever had been going on before. Because—though Clarke could be going crazy—she swore Murphy had bowed his head when Raven brought a girl up to Clarke two days after Valentine’s Day. 

She swore he bit his lip, fighting the urge to say something. To stop the conversation that went on between Clarke and her.

She could be wrong. She could be making something up to fill the void of where she wanted him to be. It was possible. But she hoped she wasn’t. 

_”Sure...but if you call me again at this hour, I’ll kick your ass,”_ Murphy threatened, with no real emotion in it. Clarke chuckled, imagining the smallest grin across his face.

“Okay,” Clarke snuggled back into her pillow, “I’ll let you.”

He hummed again and then was hanging up, rolling back into his own bed, thoughts as wild as Clarke’s were. They both lied in their rooms for an hour or so after that, suddenly wide awake and wanting the same thing but being too scared the other would run as soon as they mentioned it.

So they pretended they didn’t want to be curled up around the other, pretended they slept fine the night after Valentine’s Day. They brushed off their feelings and drifted off to sleep, excited and nervous for their coffee date.

Who knew meeting with a  _ friend _ would cause someone so much anxiety.

*****

Murphy was already there when Clarke wandered through the door. He sat there in his black jacket and tight jeans, clean haircut and stubbly little beard. There were two cups and a bag on the table.

Grinning, Clarke walked up to countered seats, “Is this seat taken?”

“Well, it is now,” Murphy replied, pushing the bag and a cup to her. “I got you your usual and also a muffin. Thought you might be hungry.”

Clarke eyed him, biting her lip when he gulped his own fears away. Sitting down next to him, Murphy spoke again. “It’s blueberry. I know that’s your favourite.”

She ignored the way his voice cracked. And ignored the red that burned his cheeks so brightly. He was probably just cold. It was the most logical reason.

“So…” Murphy started, chewing at his lip. Clarke pulled her chair in a little closer and looked down. She knew she should mention it, say something about how she was feeling or at the very least bring up that night. It could open up a discussion about what they maybe both wanted. 

Clarke stayed quiet instead. She was at a loss. It was right there on her tongue, wanting to break out. But she couldn’t. She was far too afraid to ruin her friendship with him.

“Bellamy asked where I was on Valentine’s Day,” Murphy said. He was staring at his cup, hand fiddling with the lid. Clarke sucked in a sharp breath.

“What did you say?”

Murphy shrugged, “that I was with you.”

“Huh? Murphy, I thought we—“

“I didn’t tell him what happened...obviously. I just, told him, you know?” Murphy stated, not showing he really cared. Which he didn’t. He wouldn’t share with Bellamy what  _ actually  _ happened. But he didn’t mind telling him that he spent it with Clarke. He wasn’t ashamed of that.

He enjoyed it a lot snd wish he could talk more about what it was like to spend some time with her. But he only shut his mouth. He couldn’t share that.

“And he didn’t question that?”

“Oh, he did. He wouldn’t get off my ass about it for an hour. I just left it at we hung out ‘cause they were all together and I didn’t want you to be—I didn’t want to be alone.” Murphy cleared his throat, playing off his slip up. Clarke caught it though.

Her cheeks flushed a bright red, her heart racing and hands going clammy. He didn’t want her to be alone. That’s what he meant to say. He may not have finished that thought, but it was there, now out of the open. And Clarke heard.

Murphy began to ramble when Clarke didn’t say anything, fearing that he had fucked up completely and ruined everything.

“I mean he didn’t care, just acted like the same old Bellamy we know, right? Yeah, and I’m sure Raven would’ve asked. Or thought about asking. I don’t know—“

Clarke placed her hand over his, the shaking coming to a slow stop. She was going to do it. She was going to tell him. She had to because she couldn’t take it anymore. It had been almost a week since they slept together and every day since then all she could think about was him.

Murphy this and Murphy that. His messy brown hair that stuck up in the morning. His eyes that were as blue as hers, light and warm. His soft lips and gentle hands.

“Murphy, it’s okay,” Clarke whispered, “I told Raven a little more anyway.”

She hadn’t. Not much more at least. She did mention that something was off and that she thought she might be having some feelings for someone. She didn’t bring up Murphy or what they did. But she told Raven there was someone, someone making her feel things she hadn’t felt in a while.

“You did?” Murphy mumbled, turning to face her now.

“Yeah...but it didn’t mean anything, right?” Clarke moved closer, her nose brushing his as the sunlight fell against his eyes so perfectly. His skin golden, warm. “Unless we want it to mean something...”

Murphy looked from her lips to her eyes and then back to her lips. She wanted this. So did he.  _It didn’t mean anything_.  They had been telling themselves that lie for a while, maybe longer than they realized. 

But one night full of sloppy drunk kisses and bruised skin led them to see it. They wanted each other.

Clarke reached up, hand sliding behind his head. She let her fingers run through his hair a bit before leaning in, lips planting on his as they sat in that coffee shop.

People going about their day as they sat in that windowed seat, two love-sick idiots who happened to find peace in each other. Everyone else went on, getting their coffees and finishing their papers.

Kids asking for a snack while their parents shushed them. And then there was them. Sitting there together, tasting nothing more than the other as the world slowed down just for them. Pausing to let them have one small moment.

It was so cliche. So utterly-disgustingly-cliche but neither of them seemed to mind because it was just them in their minds. Coffee and blueberry clashing together, blonde and brown.

And that kiss. That kiss meant so much more than either could explain.

It was full of lost time time and unspoken thoughts. Laced with unsaid promises and a lifelong love. It was real and it was home and everything was starting to finally make sense.

It was soft and careful, nothing compared to how they kissed a week ago. Because a week ago, on that very night, they were rushing. Rushing to touch every part of their bodies, feeling the other against them and to never forget it. Because a week ago they thought that would be it.

In their drunk sight of things, they wouldn’t be anything more than each other’s one night stand and that was the last thing they had wanted. 

So this kiss was everything they didn’t get on Valentine’s. It was what they wanted but didn’t give each other. They were no longer confused, no longer scared.

They had each other, dangling right in front of one another. There was no more pretending.

Murphy pulled away first, lips tingling and chest heaving as his lungs gasped for air, “it doesn’t mean anything.”

Clarke laughed with him, head falling to his shoulder. She had been beating herself up for days over messing everything up only for it to turn out so perfect. For her to find out he had been having the exact same thoughts.

She lifted her head and rested her forehead to his. “Yeah...nothing at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh well there it is. I probably could have stretched this out within the week that they started realizing all those feelings but I felt that would be too much and would be way too repetitive. Hopefully you guys liked it regardless, kudos and comments would be appreciated. 
> 
> I also wrote this for the BLM initiative after it was promoted. If you want to check out more or prompt some (maybe even prompt me some more clurphy fics!!) you can find the information right here  
> [Check out the carrd here!](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co)


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